


Tug of War

by excessiveprepositionalphrases



Series: One Tiny Lieutenant Cares Deeply About Julian Bashir [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excessiveprepositionalphrases/pseuds/excessiveprepositionalphrases
Summary: “What do you do the rest of the time? How do you stop feeling…like anything less than perfect is worthless?”Julian squeezed my arm again and rested his cheek against the top of my head. “If I ever figure it out, I promise I’ll let you know.”It's fluffy. It's cuddly. It's goofy. It's comfort fic. It's self inserty. Enjoy.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Original Female Character(s)
Series: One Tiny Lieutenant Cares Deeply About Julian Bashir [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621273
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	Tug of War

I’d been grappling with the emotion all morning. It was an emotion I was struggling to put a name to. I wasn’t used to not having names for things. Usually if I had anything it was words, but I couldn’t figure out how to describe what I was feeling. It wasn’t sadness, or anxiety, or loneliness, but it seemed somehow similar to them all. I continued trying to process the emotion as I went through the day’s repair checklist, bouncing all over the station. I was elbows deep in a console when I found the first words for it. _Emotionally fragile_. That was a good description. I wasn’t exactly any negative emotion I could put a name to, but I felt like if someone looked sideways at me, I would probably start crying. There was no justification for it. Whatever exactly it could have been called, it certainly felt like a Julian problem. As soon as I made that decision the feeling only seemed to stronger. What started as a vague, hard to describe emotional fragility was slowly turning into a desire just to be close to Julian.

The day seemed to drag on forever. By the time I finally had the chance to shuffle down to the infirmary, I’d devolved into a hazy, strange mess.

Julian was standing in the supply closet, sifting though canisters, apparently searching for something.

“You look like you’re hunting for something,” I said, not bothering with hello.

Julian looked up from the canister of clear liquid in his hands and greeted me with one of those warm smiles.

“You’re exactly correct. Fluid triphenol, to be exact.”

“Should I know what that is?” I asked, crossing the room to join him.

“Not unless you studied advanced genetic replication, no, you shouldn’t,” he answered.

“Can I help you look?”

“I’d be very grateful.”

“What exactly am I looking for?” I asked.

“It’s labeled,” Julian assured me. “Clear liquid. Basically this,” – he handed me the canister in his hands – “but this is just alcohol.”

I nodded and joined the doctor in rifling through the shelves.

“This isn’t exactly a riveting task,” Julian apologized. “You don’t need to stand here and dig through chemicals with me.”

I inhaled the hovering smell of clean air and chemicals and watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was right there, about 4 inches away from me. It was everything I could do to resist leaning my shoulder into his and cuddling up to him. It didn’t matter what I was doing. All I had wanted was to be close to him, and this was a wonderful excuse.

“What brought you in, before I roped you into this?” Julian continued before I could answer his first statement. “Anything I can do for you, or did you just come to say hello?”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“Oh?”

“I just wanted to talk to you. Do you ever just get in a mood?” I asked.

“It depends on what exactly you mean.”

“I just feel sort of fragile, I guess. And – not lonely, exactly, but – I don’t know, I guess pathetic would be a good description. Nothing specific happened to put me in a mood, I’m just in this one. I feel like if someone looks at me wrong I’m going to start crying.”

I set down the canister in my hands – still not the one Julian was looking for – and turned to face him.

“I get so tired of pretending to be okay all the time,” I added.

Julian stopped his own search and turned his full attention to me.

“I know you’re never as okay as you pretend to be,” he said.

“I don’t know whether it makes me happy or sad to know that you can see through me that easily.”

Julian motioned broadly to the shelves. “My chemical compound can wait. Do you want to sit down and talk?”

I nodded. Julian sat down on the floor and folded his endless legs underneath him. I sat down next to him, still barely resisting leaning into him. I got as close as I could without actually touching him, half an inch between our shoulders.

“I’m just bad at admitting when I need to be cared for. It’s not like I’m always falling apart, but it’s still hard for me to come out and say it in the few moments that I am.”

“I’m not exactly talented at that either,” Julian said. “Anyway, you never seemed to have any trouble telling me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t! That’s why I’m here. Because I’ve spent the whole day feeling…well, just feeling like I want someone to take care of me. And you’re the only person I can actually say that to. I only wanted to be close to you, to be honest.”

“I’m here,” Julian reassured me softly. “You’re close to me now.”

“…not close enough,” I whispered.

“What was that?”

“…not as close as I’d like to be,” I repeated quietly.

Julian smiled again and glanced down at the tiny space in between us. He leaned towards me a little, pressing his shoulder into mine. I took it as an invitation and melted into him. He wrapped his arm around me and softly rubbed my arm.

“Thanks,” I said quietly. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“I hope you know you don’t have to wait for an invitation,” he responded. “If you ever feel the need to walk up and hug me…”

“I promise I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Did something happen?” he asked. “Something to upset you?”

“It really didn’t,” I answered. “There was no inciting event. I just woke up pathetic.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Just exist.”

Julian squeezed my arm. “I’m here,” he repeated softly. “I’m right here with you.”

And then there was quiet. Not an awkward silence, exactly, but silence just the same. I was too busy snuggling into Julian’s warmth to come up with any conversation.

“Do you ever feel like you have to be perfect?” I asked finally.

“Most of the time,” Julian answered.

“Do you ever achieve it? Are you ever actually perfect?”

“Every once in a while, for an hour or two. It doesn’t last long.”

“What do you do the rest of the time? How do you stop feeling…like anything less than perfect is worthless?”

Julian squeezed my arm again and rested his cheek against the top of my head. “If I ever figure it out, I promise I’ll let you know.”

“I don’t feel like I’ll ever be good enough,” I continued. “I don’t feel like I AM ever good enough.”

“I don’t either,” Julian said matter of factly.

“If you could see yourself the way I see you…”

“And I could say the same to you!”

I peeled myself out of the snuggle and grabbed his hands, and leaned back, pulling against him. He caught onto the game immediately and pulled back. “Maybe,” I mused, as I turned the conversation into a tug of war, “it’s not about being perfect. Maybe trying is good enough. Maybe good is good enough.”

He pulled harder, and it was every ounce of strength in my body not to crash into him. I leaned further back and pulled him in. “I know you’re going easy on me!” I said with a laugh. “I’m not actually stronger than you. If you’re gonna fight, fight!”

“Oh really? That’s a dangerous wish, getting into a strength battle with me, of all people – ”

“You absolute wimp!”

“Do you _actually_ want me to pull you over? I _will_ pull you over – ”

I was laughing hysterically at this point. I stopped pulling on Julian’s arms and picked up my more pensive line of thought.

“See, this is your superpower. Who needs perfect? You always cheer me up. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“I would certainly say that it is,” he agreed.

A pause.

“So why can’t I make myself believe it? Why can I never get over this feeling that if I’m not perfect, there’s nothing. I know it’s not true! I know it isn’t true! I know I don’t feel that way about anyone. I wouldn’t judge anyone by that standard. So why can’t I stop judging myself by it?”

Julian studied me thoughtfully. “I know you’d like me to have all the answers, but I don’t know. If you ever figure it out, please teach me.”

His face shifted from pensivity to playfulness. “Now,” he said, grabbing my hands again, “do you still want me to actually fight?”

“I do!”

He eyed me mischievously and pulled on my arms. I pulled against him again and made no more than a few degrees of progress before he yanked me almost onto the floor. We both dissolved into giggles and and I gave up, laying down on the floor.

“You’re the worst,” I said lovingly.

“You asked for it!”

“I know, I know. It’s my own fault. Tangling with a superhuman, and all.”

I turned my head to face the shelves on the wall and closed one eye to read the labels on the canisters better.

“What was that stuff you were looking for, again?”

“I completely forgot. Triphenol.”

I laughed and grabbed a bottle from the bottom shelf and handed it up to Julian, never peeling myself off the floor.

“There’s your triphenol, Doctor. Looks like I just needed a slightly different perspective.”


End file.
